


B Point

by ChiaRoseKuro



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Art Exhibition, Awful Running Gags, Bickering, Canon-Typical Violence, Crushes, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Love, Holding Hands, Humor, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, Kissing, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nicknames, Prompt Fic, Romance, Romantically Dense Characters, Slice of Life, Songfic, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Strangers to Lovers, Telepathic Bond, Time Skips, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22664032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiaRoseKuro/pseuds/ChiaRoseKuro
Summary: As a single person in a brave new world, what is love? Do you have a B Point in your heart?Kageyama Tobio is handsome and good with his hands—but he’s never had a romantic relationship. Most people believe it’s because he’s too focused on his poor academic scores to care about getting a partner, but…Less than 1% of people in the world have soul marks. The thought of having a soulmate might sound romantic to the majority who don’t have them—but what they don’t know is that, unless they find their fated half, they’re doomed to never feel love.Kageyama’s never really cared much, though. So what if the sun above his heart stays greyed out? It’s not like love will help him graduate from college.But then, a few months after his twenty-third birthday, a stranger comes in from the snow.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio & Yachi Hitoka, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio & Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio & Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 222





	1. Inconsequential

**Author's Note:**

> I've written a number of Haikyuu!! stories in the past, but... until I either get to fixing them up or post them up under my pseud for older stories, this will count as my first on here. I don't think I've written for them in years (and I barely remember where I last caught up to for the manga/anime) so forgive me for any inconsistencies - I tried my best to match their canon personalities, but there were a few tweaks here and there to fit the divergent route this story took.
> 
> If you're not a fan of internalized discrimination against soul marks (and, to a certain extent, romance), homosexual relationships, vague (and possibly inaccurate) descriptions of being a barista and whatever else you'd expect from a KageHina romance story, the 'back' button is at your disposal. I had fun writing for KageHina again, and I'm not going to ruin my fun by bothering with rude and unnecessary comments.
> 
> Special thanks to Freak Duo Discord server for hosting the Freak Duo Discord Volleytines Event (and providing the central pairing and the prompts used in this story - i.e. crushes/pining, firsts and together forever), the songs referenced in each chapter for providing both the main inspiration and chapter taglines, and [The Earth is Online](https://arkmachinetranslations.wordpress.com/eo-index/) for both the title and the story tagline (with a few adaptations for the latter). Kudos to you if you recognize the tagline and remember where it originates... but if you don't, feel free to sit back and enjoy the story as is. With any luck, this will be finished in time for Valentine's Day, so please look forward to the other chapters as they come!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Within the shape of this distorted heart, a brave pulse is shouting._  
> [Dark Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEEFXAltoqo), Eve
> 
> [ Day One - Crushes/Pining ]

* * *

Snow falls gently past the window and sinks into the mounds of white already blanketing the ground—it’s eased since the heavy storm a few hours ago, but Kageyama’s not looking forward to the walk back. After all, what happens if it picks up again? _And it’s mid-February,_ he thinks irritably, scrubbing at a window table with rough, jerky motions. _Shouldn’t the snow have **stopped** by now?_

“I asked you to _polish_ the table, Tobio-chan, not _remove_ the polish from the table!” Oikawa chirps.

“Yeah?” Kageyama barks, whipping his head around to glare at his boss. “And what, exactly, are _you_ doing?”

Half-draped over the counter, with his bullshit megawatt smile plastered onto his face and his hand held out in a peace sign, Oikawa winks at Kageyama and singsongs, “Why, I’m overseeing your churlish cleaning efforts! Can’t have you destroying the poor things because you’re such a _barbarian_ , now, can I?”

“Then clean them _yourself_ ,” Kageyama mutters under his breath, low enough that he can barely hear himself. He’d protest to Oikawa’s face—but he’d learned, months ago, that slamming his head against a brick wall would be more productive.

And it’s only gotten worse since Oikawa got a new girlfriend.

He’s one of the vast majority that don’t have a soul mark—a guarantee of a lifelong partner, in return for never experiencing love with anyone else. Kageyama’s only met one other person in his life who had a symbol above their heart, a senpai who’d been lucky enough to grow up with their soulmate, but what he’s seen of love is… messy.

There’s really no other way to describe it, as far as he knows. _Or maybe it’s just Oikawa,_ Kageyama thinks with a silent snort, valiantly ignoring the way his boss hums and giggles at whatever’s on his phone, _doing his best to destroy everyone’s illusions of love, one heart at a time._

He’s certainly dated enough, at this point, that Kageyama knows more girls who’ve either dated Oikawa—or _want_ to date Oikawa—than not. He can’t even remember most of their names or faces, with the speed that he goes through them.

“Those tables aren’t going to polish themselves, Tobio-chan!” Oikawa calls out from the counter then, and Kageyama grits his teeth before he starts on the next table.

Maybe he’d been some sort of tyrant that made little children cry in his past life. It’s the only reason why he can imagine karma inflicting Oikawa on him as his middle school senpai, high school senpai, college senpai _and_ current employer.

And, perhaps, why he’s decked out in a pink shirt, white pants and a frilly red apron.

It’s been a fairly slow day at the café—nobody’s come in for almost half an hour, and Oikawa had told him to begin wiping down the tables in preparation for an earlier closing time. Whilst this means he’ll get less pay, because Oikawa’s a petty boss like that, it almost means there’s less people who’ll see him in this embarrassing get-up.

_You’re the only one who’s not preparing for midterms or an elaborate Valentine’s Day date!_ Oikawa had cajoled, and Kageyama—like an absolute _idiot_ —had been lured by the prospect of double time. If he’d known that the café would be decked out in frilly hearts and he’d be _wearing_ some of them, though…

“Damn that Shittykawa,” Kageyama grumbles, taking a leaf out of Iwaizumi’s book.

“What was that?” Oikawa asks from right behind him.

“I could’ve _sworn_ you were cursing me, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa continues flippantly, even as Kageyama very carefully freezes in place and resists the urge to turn around. “And to think that I, out of the purity and goodness of my heart, took you in and even paid you extra these past few days…!”

“You know, your face is pretty scary for someone who’s decked out for Valentine’s Day in a lovey-dovey café,” Kageyama hears over Oikawa’s fake sniffling, and he’s just about to snap at the intruder when—

Bright orange hair. Guileless brown eyes. Slightly chubby cheeks, a graphic tee and… someone he’s never seen before…?

“You’re gonna make all the girls cry if you scowl at them like that, y’know!” the stranger continues cheerfully, as though he’s unaware of Kageyama’s darkening expression or Oikawa’s gleeful snickering. “But, uh, if you guys aren’t busy or anything like that,” he adds with a little half-shrug, “can I order something?”

“Of course!” Oikawa replies to their prospective customer, shooing Kageyama to the counter with a discreet wave of his hand—but given that _he_ had been at the counter less than a minute ago, it’s just another obvious ploy to push him around.

If this were anyone else, Kageyama would probably freeze them out with a glare or insult them without a second thought. Because this is his boss and the only steady source of income he has right now, though…

“Come with me,” Kageyama grits out as politely as he can, and reaches the counter in time for a flood of college students to inundate the café.

Well, it’s not _really_ a flood—it’s just five or six people, likely a bunch of friends looking for a pick-me-up after class, but Kageyama finds himself trying to make about ten different orders at once. The fact that Oikawa is responsible for about three of those, and has _wandered off_ to chat with their customers, doesn’t escape his notice.

He’s going to spit in all three of them when nobody’s looking, and then he’s going to watch Oikawa _choke_ on it.

“Hurry up with those orders, Tobio-chan!” Oikawa calls over his shoulder, and Kageyama gives him something that a blind man might possibly deem a smile.

_Spit **and** salt instead of sugar,_ Kageyama vindictively decides, and almost knocks over the _legitimate_ order he’s currently making.

Kageyama doesn’t, in the end, but it’s mostly because he takes pride in his job. For all that he doesn’t remember as many names and faces as Oikawa does, most of their regulars prefer his coffee to his boss’. Of course, that’s not to say that he’s the _best_ barista in the café—but he’s the best out of the two on shift, and he’s _principled_.

Which is more than he can say for a serial slacker like Oikawa, _so_.

“One large caramel latte with whipped cream and a pump of caramel syrup for… Hinata,” Kageyama calls out with a perfectly neutral expression. He’s been yelled at enough times to keep his thoughts on the customer’s orders to himself, now, but—that is a scandalous amount of sugar.

And somehow, it’s no surprise at all when the stranger from before—a guy that looks like a literal ball of _sunshine_ —bounces up to the counter.

“That looks _amazing!_ ” Hinata gushes, almost spilling his order in his eagerness to get it. “Thanks for making my order, Tobio!”

“It’s Kageyama,” Kageyama says before he can stop himself, glancing pointedly down at his name badge—

But Hinata’s already making his way to the door, tugging on a ridiculously large pair of earmuffs and then mittens that almost seem to dwarf the takeaway cup. Kageyama’s heart gives a funny thump at the sight—but there’s other customers to serve, and he quickly shakes his head before calling out the next order.

_Probably just the cold,_ Kageyama tells himself—he’s only in a short-sleeved shirt, after all, and the counter’s not exactly far from the door. As much as he doesn’t want to get sick, he _is_ eligible for sick leave… and after all the things Oikawa’s put him through in his entire _life?_ The asshole should be lucky that Kageyama’s not actively warning people _away_ from the coffee shop, or spreading nasty rumours about him to all the girls that think him _handsome_ and _mature_.

His heart doesn’t beat strangely after that, even as he hands out the remaining orders and they eventually leave too, but it’s not really something that bothers him. It’s just an abnormality, a once-off far less important than the prospect of another snowstorm or whether the water pressure back home will be stable enough for a hot shower—and by the time Kageyama falls asleep, he’s forgotten all about it.  
  


* * *

  
“You’re…” Hinata scrunches up his face, cheeks puffing out ever so slightly as he thinks, but then he shouts triumphantly and exclaims, “Toshio, right?”

“It’s _Kageyama,_ ” Kageyama grumbles with a long-suffering air, pointedly fingering the name badge on his chest, but it’s like the idiot can’t read Kanji _or_ understand what he’s saying.

Kageyama honestly wouldn’t be surprised—Hinata’s come almost every day in the past fortnight, but _Kageyama’s_ had better luck at remembering his name. Considering that he’d spent an entire semester failing to learn his professor’s name…

“No, no, Oikawa-san calls you something else,” Hinata blithely replies, and Kageyama does his very best _not_ to audibly grind his teeth.

There is something about Hinata that gets on his nerves more than most other people—possibly more than even _Oikawa_ , too, and _that’s_ a cursed talent to have. It’s not even like he’s terrible, beyond his inability to read Kageyama’s nametag and order anything that isn’t a heart attack disguised as coffee. It’s just a general aura around him, as though Kageyama can’t help but notice every single detail about him, and it’s more annoying than it should be.

Because he doesn’t _care_ about Hinata as anything but a customer.

That’s not quite right, though—he doesn’t really worry about the sugar content in most other people’s coffee, because they’re _sane_ and don’t try to add _more_ sachets of sugar to an already-sugary drink. He doesn’t want to seize their heads and squeeze them while ranting about health science, which would be hilarious because he doesn’t actually _know_ anything about what too much sugar might do the body beyond ‘it has something to do with diabetes’ and ‘sweets are gross’.

…Okay, so maybe he _does_ care about Hinata a little more than he’d care about most customers, but that’s because Hinata’s _stupid_. He’s stupid about his coffee in a way that not even Oikawa is about his looks or girls, and it’s just. _Argh_.

“Uh, are you alright?” Hinata asks, and Kageyama peels his face off the counter to glare at him.

“Just—give me your order already,” Kageyama mutters, and isn’t surprised at all when Hinata comes up with some other gross, sugary concoction that barely resembles coffee.

Thankfully, there’s nobody else in the café—it’s approaching finals season, Iwaizumi clocked off half an hour ago, and Oikawa’s supposedly waiting for their usual lunch delivery. The few people that’d braved the chilly morning air did so as soon as the café had opened, bleary-eyed and grasping desperately at their takeaway cups even before their names had been called, so Hinata’s probably the first non-zombified customer they’ve had all morning.

Not that it means he’s actually _stimulating_ , as far as conversation goes, but…

_Someone who wants this much sugar in their coffee probably let their brain rot away a **long** time ago,_ Kageyama thinks as he squeezes two pumps of syrup into Hinata’s order, and bites his lip so he doesn’t snicker at the thought.

But instead of taking his coffee and haring off, like he usually does, Hinata curls a hand around his takeaway cup and frowns up at him. He’s not that much shorter than Kageyama—and Kageyama’s almost certain he wears shoes with thicker soles to give himself a tiny, useless height boost—but there’s always something about his gaze that makes Kageyama… look back.

“You know,” Hinata says after an endless moment, “you’d look a lot better if you didn’t frown so much.”

“Huh?” Kageyama replies intelligently.

“I mean, it’s just…” Hinata waves a hand in the air, brows scrunching almost comically as he thinks. “Your face, you know?”

Kageyama blinks at him.

This, apparently, _means_ something to Hinata, because he stops doctoring his coffee with sugar to jab a finger near Kageyama’s face. “See, you’re doing that _thing!_ ” he huffs. “It’s like—you should be all _gwah_ for work, you know? But you’re _bwuh_ instead.”

He’s fairly certain that neither _gwah_ or _bwuh_ are words that should make any sense, but Kageyama frowns back down at Hinata _without_ staring at whatever mess he’s making of his coffee. A moment to collect his thoughts, another to relax his facial muscles, and then…

“ _That’s_ more like it!” Hinata cheers, almost flinging an entire _opened_ sachet of sugar into Kageyama’s face.

And for all that Kageyama yells at Hinata for the sugar granules scattered all over the counter, which results in Oikawa skidding into yell at _him_ for yelling—there’s something warm in his chest.

It’s probably got nothing to do with Hinata, though. It’s probably just something to do with all the fumes in the air, or how a college-age person could be stupid enough to wave their hands about when they had opened sugar sachets in their hands, or—something.

(but it doesn’t stop his chest from feeling warm, long after Hinata’s gone and Kageyama’s gone off-shift)  
  


* * *

  
By the time Kageyama catches himself looking at the door, it’s the third time in as many minutes—and from the way Sugawara’s arching a brow at him, it hasn’t gone unnoticed either. There aren’t any customers, beyond a wild-eyed student frantically tapping away at their laptop and a couple enjoying their coffee outside, so it’s not long before Sugawara’s fixed himself a small mocha and walked over to hip-check him gently.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Sugawara asks, propping his elbows on the counter and smiling up at Kageyama. “It’s not like you to fidget so much.”

There’s a moment when Kageyama considers brushing him off, because it’s not as though it’s any of Sugawara’s business. Besides, it’s just—unsettled emotions, mostly. Probably something he ate at breakfast, or how strange it is to be working after he took a week off for a particularly nasty cold.

But Sugawara’s also the nicest person Kageyama’s on speaking terms with. It’s also at least an hour away from lunch—which won’t provide much of a distraction anyway, given that it’s the middle of finals week—and when he glances at the door for the fourth time…

_It’s stupid, don’t worry about it,_ Kageyama thinks, but he finds himself asking, “Have you ever missed someone?”

“All the time,” Sugawara answers easily enough, even before Kageyama can begin chastising himself. “Don’t tell anyone this,” he says in a low voice, leaning closer and glancing around surreptitiously, “but I always find myself thinking about my… mother.

“You thought I was going to say ‘girlfriend’ or ‘boyfriend’, didn’t you?” Sugawara adds with a cheeky little grin, when Kageyama stops leaning in and only gives him a puzzled look. Kageyama’s not entirely sure if his irritation shows or not—but Sugawara laughs and takes a sip of his mocha before he says, “My mother was a lot like my best friend as I grew up, so it was hard adjusting to life without her there. It’s just not the same when I’m chatting with her on the phone—it’s a lot harder to hug her that way, and I can’t call her all the time.

“But I’m guessing yours is a little different, isn’t it?” Sugawara asks, nodding towards the door. “Have you grown fond of a regular, Kageyama?”

“It’s not,” Kageyama starts, and then shakes his head. “That’s—”

“It’s okay to like someone, even if you don’t see them all the time,” Sugawara says gently, patting him on the shoulder as he straightens up.

“But I don’t—”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Oikawa—your secret’s safe with me.”

It’s not until Sugawara’s turned away with a wink that Kageyama realizes he’s _blushing_ —but the door’s opening, and there’s no time to clear up the misunderstanding with Sugawara. He doesn’t _like_ Hinata, not when his soul mark stays lifeless and greyed out on his chest…

But nobody outside of his immediate family knows that Kageyama’s part of the 1%. Nobody _needs_ to know that information—so when Kageyama looks up and sees Hinata’s brilliant smile, all he does is scowl and mutter, “You’re late.”

…Which he shouldn’t have done, and Kageyama’s just about to open his mouth to explain it away somehow when Hinata snorts. Kageyama glances up from the counter, eyebrows rising on his forehead, but—Hinata’s _giggling_. He’s even got one hand raised to cover his mouth, and it’s—

Strange? Oddly endearing? Indicative of madness, even?

Kageyama’s smoothed his expression out into something vaguely pleasant by the time Hinata wipes honest-to-goodness _tears_ from his eyes, but that doesn’t stop him from noticing Sugawara’s slight—and _incredibly_ worrying—smile. He probably thinks that Kageyama likes _Hinata_ , based on his inability to keep his questions to himself or clarify the situation properly, but Hinata’s rattling off another sugary concoction that Kageyama has to remember without wincing.

And instead of leaving Kageyama to make it in peace, as he usually does, Hinata pokes his head over the counter and asks, “Did you miss me?”

It’s so unexpected that Kageyama almost drops the milk carton he’s holding—but it’s not actually unexpected at all, when he thinks about it. After all, wasn’t he the one who pointed out that Hinata was late? And it wasn’t like Hinata kept to a regular schedule anyway, beyond coming in most mid-mornings to horrify Kageyama’s tastebuds, so for him to say something like that _would_ , in fact, imply that he cared about Hinata.

But enough to miss him? Enough to warrant the encouraging little nods Sugawara was sending his way, or the wide-eyed curiosity on Hinata’s face?

Kageyama snorts, froths the milk he needs for Hinata’s latest order, and says, “I just thought you were done killing your tastebuds.”

“You take that back!” Hinata yells, cheeks puffing up from the force of his indignation. “You—you probably drink bitter sludge that’s just as bitter as your _soul!_ ”

“At least my face isn’t fat like yours!” Kageyama retorts, almost letting Hinata’s order slosh onto the counter when he sets it down a little too roughly.

“Yeah, but at least I’m not a _fun sponge!_ ”

Kageyama stares down at Hinata’s finger, eyes going almost cross-eyed in the attempt, but it’s not long before he’s peering around the finger and at Hinata’s scrunched face. “Fun sponge?” Kageyama echoes incredulously into the silence.

“ _Fun sponge,_ ” Hinata huffs, snatching up his takeaway cup with an angry little scowl that Kageyama doesn’t think is cute at _all_. “You’re a scowling, bitter fun sponge, and I’ll keep coming around until you stop being such a grump!”

“Uh,” Kageyama says over Sugawara’s suspicious coughing fit. “Right.”

And even as Hinata marches out with his takeaway cup clutched tightly to his chest, even as Sugawara smiles strangely at him again and wanders over to check on the college student half-slumped over their laptop, Kageyama finds himself staring at the door. He doesn’t _like_ Hinata, not in the sense that those without soul marks could… but there’s a smile on Kageyama’s face all the same, and there’s a scrap of paper on the counter that he doesn’t throw away.

If he happens to let his gaze linger over the horrendously messy scrawl of Hinata’s name and the near-illegible numbers that appear beneath it? It’s just coincidence confused with fondness, and it doesn’t mean anything special at all.


	2. Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _To tell the truth, I... wanted to get along with someone_  
> [7150 Days](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mCKg8Ywl8A) \- Sena Wataru (ft. Sou)
> 
> [ Day Two - Firsts ]

* * *

“So, Tanaka—”

“That’s not even _remotely_ similar to Tobio—and what the hell, dumbass, it’s _Kageyama_ —”

“—Do you go to college here? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of this café.”

It’s the first time Hinata hasn’t hared off with his coffee, but Kageyama’s too incensed by Hinata’s continued inability to remember his name to really care. He’s almost certain the idiot’s doing it on purpose—because, really, it’s not like his name’s in a foreign _language_ or anything—but Hinata only props his elbows on the counter and sniffs, “Are you ignoring me because you don’t want to admit you’re a dumbass?”

“Shut up,” is Kageyama’s eloquent response, and only Oikawa’s soft snickering keeps Kageyama from calling Hinata a dumbass again.

It’s the last day of college—not that it really counts for much, when most people have already finished their finals and gone back to their homes—and it’s also, coincidentally enough, Kageyama’s last shift before the café closes for the holidays. Perhaps other eateries on campus might still be open for business, given that there’s always a few students taking holiday courses… but Oikawa’s going to visit his parents over the spring break, and he’s the sort of boss that doesn’t trust anyone else to run the place.

Which is _stupid_ , considering how little Oikawa actually _does_ anything for the café when he’s so busy dating and being a general nuisance, but who’s Kageyama to say anything?

So here he is, making Hinata’s last coffee for however long the break lasts, and—

“You know, ‘shut up’ doesn’t actually answer my question,” Hinata says then, and Oikawa finally gives into loud, helpless giggling.

“The hell’s so funny?” Kageyama asks Oikawa, which just makes him laugh _more_. This is Oikawa, though, who probably has an empty head behind his supposedly _pretty_ face, and Kageyama shakes his head before turning to Hinata and grumbling, “Just drop it, will you?”

“But I want to _know_ ,” Hinata whinges—because there’s really no other way to describe his tone of voice, when he’s puffing his cheeks out and squeezing his eyes shut like that, “and it’s like nobody _else_ knows what you do!”

“Maybe it’s because it’s none of your _business,_ dumbass—”

“And I’ve heard you’re, like, some sort of _art_ student or something,” Hinata says right over Kageyama, “but you look so grumpy that I bet your art’s all grumpy like you _too!_ ”

“Excuse me?” Kageyama asks ever so quietly, in between Oikawa’s hyena-like cackling.

“You heard me—your art’s probably all _blergh_ instead of _whaa_ , anyway.”

Hinata puts his hands on his hips and nods to himself, unaware—or, worse, _uncaring_ —of Kageyama’s deeply offended scoff. Oikawa’s laying on the ground at this point, which is probably breaking all _sorts_ of OH&S rules, but Kageyama’s too busy trying _not_ to get his nose probed when Hinata crows and sticks his finger right into his face.

“I bet,” Hinata declares over Kageyama’s flailing and Oikawa’s wheezing, “I can draw you better than you can draw me!”

“I don’t need to prove anything to you!” Kageyama yells, once he’s shoved Hinata’s hand out of his face—

Except there’s a strange heat in his fingers and a corresponding one over his heart, one that makes his breath come short and his vision swim for a moment, and Kageyama almost staggers back from the sudden weakness in his limbs. He’s vaguely aware that Hinata’s propping himself up on the counter as well, and that Oikawa’s getting up with a question on his lips—but all he can hear is his own breath, harsh and rasping through his ears.

Seconds flash by—

Fingers scrabbling at his shirt.

Oikawa’s panic shining brightly in his eyes.

Hinata’s coffee cup spilling.

The trickle of the customized hazelnut mocha he’d been sipping at but hadn’t quite finished off.

His heartbeat thundering in his ears.

The searing _heat_ from what must be his soul mark, if the way Oikawa shouted and drew back with widened eyes was anything to go by.

But all Kageyama can do is stare at Hinata, mouth opening and closing uselessly even as Hinata turns to look at him—

And then the world flares orange before fading to black.  
  


* * *

  
“—had a _soul mark?_ ”

“What does it matter if you didn’t know? It’s not like Kageyama’s your kid brother, Shittykawa.”

“But—but Tobio-chan’s been keeping secrets? From _me?_ ”

“For goodness’ _sake_ , you absolute idiot, get your head out of your ass and—hey, you alright?”

Kageyama wonders who Iwaizumi’s talking to, at first, but then there’s a hand pressing against his forehead. It’s unexpected enough that Kageyama’s eyes fly open—but all he sees is Iwaizumi’s and Oikawa’s faces, and part of a ceiling. Part of a very _familiar_ ceiling, at that, and Kageyama only blinks for a moment before he’s sitting up.

“You alright?” Iwaizumi patiently repeats, as Kageyama glances around the café’s break room and spots someone—Sugawara, he identifies moments later—crouched over Hinata’s prone body. “Oh, the kid’s still out of it,” he adds, when he realizes where Kageyama’s looking, “but he should be fine.”

He doesn’t _look_ fine, though—his face is a little too pale and drawn, solemn in a way he’s never been whenever he’s at the café, and Kageyama shakes his head with short, jerky motions.

“What,” he tries to say, but it comes out all raspy and wrong. He has to cough and clear his throat twice before he can force out a thick, “What happened?”

But even then, Iwaizumi only frowns in his usual stern way before he hands Kageyama a glass of water and tells him, “You’ll have to ask Oikawa that—I only got here a few minutes ago.”

“I’m not going to explain _anything_ until Tobio-chan explains his soul mark!” Oikawa protests loudly, and Kageyama swallows three big gulps before the words sink in and he almost spits his mouthful out.

He’d felt cold, in a distant sort of way, but it’s like Oikawa’s words have kicked his senses into overdrive. Kageyama grits his teeth against the sudden chill and looks down to see his unbuttoned shirt, which’d been pushed back to expose most of his torso. There’s goosebumps stark on his skin and he runs clumsy hands along them in a futile attempt to rub warmth back into his body…

But then his gaze falls upon the mark on his body, the grey sun that he’d been born with and which ties his fate to one of the billions of people in the world. It _should_ be grey—except it’s blazing orange instead, so intense that it almost looks like it’s _glowing_ on his skin. It’s intensely orange in a way that immediately makes him think of Hinata, and that’s just—

“ _He’s_ my soulmate?” Kageyama blurts out, flinging an arm out and almost smacking Oikawa in the chest. “I didn’t—but I—”

“What was Kageyama doing before he and Hinata passed out?” Sugawara abruptly asks then, turning to face Oikawa with a faintly pinched expression. “I’ve heard of cases where soulmates felt each other’s pain, but why would they react like _this?_ ”

“I just shoved his hand out of my face,” Kageyama says, before Oikawa can open his mouth. “I didn’t really mean for it to hurt,” he hastily adds, when Sugawara’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, “but then there was this _heat_ , and it was like everything was unclear, and I—”

“Oh my god, how are you this dense?” Oikawa interjects.

“—didn’t expect to—what?” Kageyama asks blankly.

“I _said_ —”

“How long have you known Hinata for?” Iwaizumi asks over Oikawa’s annoyed words, shooting him an aggrieved glance before he turns to look at Kageyama. “Is this the first time you’ve touched him?”

“Why does it matter?” Kageyama asks even more blankly, even as Sugawara shakes his head and turns back to do whatever he’s doing to Hinata.

“Just answer the question,” Iwaizumi says, right as Oikawa scoffs and folds his arms petulantly.

And because this is Iwaizumi, the senpai who’d whack Oikawa over the head whenever he was being unreasonable towards Kageyama and offer a silent, listening ear whenever Kageyama needed help, Kageyama only blinks once before saying, “I only met him last month, in the café.”

“So you’ve never touched him before,” Iwaizumi sighs, which makes no sense at all.

“Iwa-chan, you’re speaking to _Tobio_ ,” Oikawa points out huffily, once he’s seen whatever confused expression’s on Kageyama’s face. “What makes you think he knows _anything_ about what’s going on right now?”

“ _What’s_ going on?” Kageyama snaps, but Iwaizumi’s already whacking Oikawa upside the head.

Because, really—what’s going _on?_ So his soul mark’s active because he’s supposedly touched Hinata, who’s likely his soulmate based on all the evidence available, but that…

“I’ve found my soulmate?” Kageyama breathes, staring down at his trembling hands.

“Oh, _now_ he gets it,” Oikawa sneers with a roll of his eyes, which earns him another whack over the head—but Kageyama’s too busy clenching and unclenching his hands with a dazed, distant expression.

It explains a lot of things, now that he’s thinking about it. The way he couldn’t really stop thinking about Hinata, even when he wasn’t around ordering his awful sweet coffee concoctions, and the smiles he could never really keep off his face whenever he spoke to Hinata. There’d always been girls who’d confessed to him with flushes and stutters, fingers clutching faintly scented letters, but—it’d never really made any sense to him.

Now, though… now that he can see the sun blazing on his chest and feel his cheeks heat up as his thoughts stray towards Hinata…

Kageyama hardly notices the hands steadying his arms as he staggers to his feet, doesn’t even recall the way Sugawara had taken one look at him and tacitly shuffled away from Hinata—but he falls to his knees beside Hinata, and is just in time to see his lashes flutter.

“Hinata?” he asks, hands still clenching and unclenching erratically by his sides. “Are you—your soul mark, is it—”

He can’t force the words out, can’t even bring himself to reach forward and fumble for Hinata’s hand after their first touch—but Hinata’s smiling a little vaguely and reaching for him before he can pull back. Kageyama can only watch as Hinata clasps their hands together, but… it doesn’t hurt. There’s only little orange and silver sparks popping off their skin, just prickly enough that Hinata giggles under his breath and Kageyama squirms a little.

It’s more than just prickly, though. It’s warm, softer than the searing heat that’d knocked them both out the first time, and it’s Kageyama who reaches forward to hold Hinata’s free hand.

“Hi,” Hinata says a little inanely, grinning up at him…

And though Kageyama hears Oikawa fake-retching in the background, though it’s almost immediately followed by Sugawara’s laughter and Oikawa’s whinging when Iwaizumi quite possibly hits him _again_ , Kageyama smiles tentatively down at Hinata and says, “You’re a dumbass.”  
  


* * *

  
It’s dark by the time Kageyama finally leaves the café, long past the time he should’ve clocked off and late enough that his stomach’s growling almost continuously from hunger… but he’s holding Hinata’s hand in his own, which almost manages to offset the discomfort. There’s a moment when he wonders whether he should let go, though, in case his hand gets sweaty and Hinata complains—

But Hinata intertwines their fingers and glances up at him from beneath his lashes, and Kageyama can only snort a little helplessly at the coy look in his eyes.

The bond will settle with time, according to Sugawara—but right now, it’s raw enough that he can sense Hinata’s thoughts on the edge of his own, like a tickle on his tongue. There aren’t sparks falling from their skin anymore, and Kageyama’s soul mark isn’t glowing as much as it’d been at first, but he can still feel the warmth over his heart and in every point of contact with Hinata.

Hinata Shouyou, his soulmate. Hinata Shouyou, who has a silver feather above his heart and who had traced his fingers along Kageyama’s orange sun with wonder shining in his eyes, and…

They’ve only known each other for a little under two months. Kageyama doesn’t know much beyond his coffee preferences, whatever little tidbits he’d dropped in their brief conversations and how soft his hand feels in his, and Hinata doesn’t know much about him either. With most relationships, it would most likely be a disaster waiting to happen.

Except Hinata’s shaking his head and laughing as he catches the tail end of Kageyama’s thoughts, glancing up at him with mischief in his eyes, and Kageyama barely catches his intention before Hinata’s throwing himself at him.

It’s a good thing that it’s dark, because they go sprawling over the sidewalk in a flurry of limbs and yelling. Kageyama manages to pin Hinata beneath him and give him a noogie for that, though he has to scramble up and pretend nothing’s amiss when Hinata’s shrieks rouse someone from their home, but Hinata slips his hand in Kageyama’s when they’ve fled the scene and it’s… good.

Hinata doesn’t talk about going home, and Kageyama doesn’t bother bringing it up either. They head to Kageyama’s place with their hands tightly linked together, order crappy takeout that comes about half an hour late and tastes like flavoured cardboard, and sprawl on the couch together afterwards.

“This is a little weird, isn’t it?” Hinata says some time later, head pillowed atop Kageyama’s chest and a finger drawing random patterns against his forearm. “I mean, I don’t know what soulmates _do_ ,” he adds, when Kageyama makes a faintly questioning noise in response, “but isn’t this…”

_Too easy?_ Kageyama hears in the back of his head. There’s a little blush on Hinata’s cheeks, pinpricks of pink that get a little pinker when Kageyama keeps looking, but all he does is snort softly and place a hand in Hinata’s hair.

“Maybe,” he concedes with a little shrug, careful not to dislodge Hinata as he does so, “but I like it.”

_I like you,_ Kageyama thinks, ruffling Hinata’s hair even as Hinata’s _ears_ go pink at the thought, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to shift his fingers to Hinata’s chin and bend down.

The angle’s a little awkward, and Hinata has to shuffle up his body a little, but Hinata’s lips are soft and just a little chapped against his own. It tastes sweet, even with their subpar dinner obscuring it, and Hinata’s cheeks are just as soft as they look when Kageyama cups them.

“I like you,” Kageyama breathes against Hinata’s lips, when they’ve pulled back and Kageyama has his arms loosely wrapped around Hinata’s waist.

And when Hinata clasps his hands behind Kageyama’s neck and says it right back, his heart warms more than his soul mark does at that.


	3. Inseparable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Our love may reach its end someday, but we will never end._  
> [Blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xS67fu0QchQ), hitorie
> 
> [ Day Three - Together Forever ]

* * *

There’s a moment, just as Shouyou’s blinking his eyes open, when his mind runs blank and he can’t quite remember where he is—but then he smells his morning coffee and what must be breakfast, and he scrambles out of bed with a flail of limbs. Tobio’s already seated at the dining table with his own cup of coffee by his elbow and a steamed bun clutched between his slender fingers, but even a sight this mundane is enough to make his heart race.

But… that’s just the way Tobio’s always been, hasn’t it? From the moment Shouyou had stepped in from the cold, glad for someplace to shelter from the light snowfall, it’d been Tobio in his frilly red apron who’d caught Shouyou’s eye. It’d been Tobio and his horrendously deep scowl and his insistence on being called _Kageyama_ who’d drawn Shouyou like a moth to the flames, and he’d never been happier to bask in someone else’s warmth.

Because Shouyou knows, now, what Tobio is like beneath all the scowling and snapping. He’d tried his best to seem nice around Shouyou’s many friends, when Shouyou had shown him off to them a few people at a time, but Tobio had never been anything like Oikawa or Sugawara. He hadn’t been smooth or friendly—only reserved in a way that’d made him seem cool instead of mean, but beneath all that he’d been tragically awkward instead.

Even now, with only the two of them at home, Tobio’s _still_ tragically awkward—he stumbles as he tries to get up from the table, and then he almost sends his coffee mug flying when he almost collapses onto it. _And people call him **cool** ,_ Shouyou thinks with a soft snort, bringing a hand to his mouth at what Yachi would say if she saw Tobio now.

“Stop laughing!” he barks as Shouyou snorts and then descends into helpless laughter, but there’s a twitch to his lips that means Tobio’s going to laugh soon. “Dumbass, you’re no better in the mornings!” he adds when Shouyou clutches at the wall and almost dislodges a painting in the process—but there’s definitely a smile on his face, begrudging as it is.

By the time Shouyou makes it to the dining table, hiccupping and wiping tears from his eyes, Tobio has the faintest of pouts on his lips. There’s laughter still dancing in his eyes, though, clear enough that maybe somebody outside of Shouyou might’ve been able to identify it, and Shouyou doesn’t try to hide when Tobio reaches over to ruffle his hair.

“You snore like the dead,” he says right after, as though even that touch had been too soft for him.

But all Hinata does is bite into his bun, chew a few times so Tobio can be properly disgusted when he opens his mouth, and say right back, “The dead don’t _snore_ , stupid. Imagine how noisy it’d be in a graveyard if they _actually_ did.”

“What the hell, dumbass? Why would you want to go into a _graveyard?_ ”

Hinata pauses mid-chew, eyes unfocusing as he stares over Tobio’s shoulder for a few moments—but then he shakes his head and resumes chewing, muttering, “It was just an _example_ , Bakageyama, _geez_.”

“Only _you_ would come up with a stupid example like that and _not_ expect someone to question it,” Tobio mutters with a shake of his head, and takes a sip from his coffee.

There’s more bickering as they continue with breakfast—over Tobio’s coffee, when Shouyou braves a sip and almost cries over how bitter it is, and then over their buns when Tobio tries to steal one from his plate. Maybe they should be more dignified as adults, less prone to yelling and throwing torn bits of their buns at each other, but who cares when they’re both laughing again?

Shouyou races Tobio to the bathroom, skidding down the hallway with a triumphant yell as Tobio curses and hurries to dry his sudsy hands, and they yell at each other through the bathroom door. The soul mark pulses over Shouyou’s heart, even when Tobio threatens to squeeze his head like a pimple for cheating, and he brushes a finger over the silver feather even as he threatens to steal all his pants and cut a few centimetres from each leg.

Their love isn’t conventional, that much Shouyou knows. He’s seen other couples, those with and those without soul marks, and they always seem… sweet. Hands firmly clasped in each other’s, smiles reserved for each other, and—

They do that as well, Shouyou supposes. They’ve spent entire evenings snuggled together on the couch, completely ignoring whatever trashy sitcom’s on TV in favour of exchanging lazy kisses, and Shouyou can spend _hours_ playing with Tobio’s fingers.

But they argue with laughter in their voices and frowns that quickly give way to smiles, even when it’s over something serious. Shouyou’s curled up in a corner and cried himself to sleep before, and Tobio’s spent nights on the couch before—but they’ve always apologized afterwards. They’ve always pressed their hands to each other’s hearts, Shouyou’s palm curling over the sun and Tobio’s fingers tracing the edges of the feather, and they’d forgiven each other with tears in their eyes and their hearts in their throats, over and over again.

Their love isn’t conventional, that much Shouyou knows—but he presses a kiss to Tobio’s cheek as he towels his hair dry, and Tobio grumbles under his breath before he kisses Shouyou’s lips, instead.

“C’mon, slowpoke, we can’t be late for today!” Shouyou laughs, swatting at Tobio when he tries to pepper kisses all over his face.

“I wouldn’t _be_ late if it wasn’t for you,” Tobio huffs, snatching Shouyou’s towel and swatting his bum with it—but he’s smiling as he darts away from Shouyou’s vindictive fingers and hides behind the door, and Shouyou’s laughing when he finally gives up and goes to find another towel in the bedroom.  
  


* * *

  
“So you’ve contacted all the caterers, right?”

“Yes, they’re already there.”

“And Yacchan’s okay with supervising them?”

“I thought she was closer to _you_ , dumbass, the hell’re you asking _me_ for?”

“But what if something goes wrong? Or everything’s not done in time?! And how about—”

Shouyou scrabbles at the hand over his mouth, muffled noises of protest slipping through despite Tobio’s iron grip on his face, but Tobio only rolls his eyes and huffs, “Why’re you worrying so much over _my_ exhibition? All you need to do is go there and look at my work.”

“Yeah, but I don’t see _you_ worrying!” Shouyou tries to say through Tobio’s hand, but all that comes out is a few muffled sounds. It takes a while to peel his hand off and repeat himself, except Tobio just _blinks_ at him and—

It’s his first exhibition, the make or break of his career, and all he’s talked about so far is whether the finger food will be _tasty_ or not. He’s not sharing it with his fellow graduates—and hadn’t _that_ been a surprise, realizing that Tobio was actually an art student who was seen as _talented_ and _sensitive_ —and there’s no knowing how many people will turn up, let alone _like_ his work and _buy_ it, and it’s just.

_Frustrating,_ Shouyou thinks, but that’s not quite right. _Nerve-wracking_ , his mind comes up with next, and Shouyou nods to himself.

“Just,” Tobio sighs, startling Shouyou out of any further thoughts about his emotions, “go there and say stupid things nobody will understand when you see my paintings, okay? I didn’t bring you to—”

_Worry,_ Tobio doesn’t say, but Shouyou sees it in his tense shoulders and unusually deep scowl.

And as much as Shouyou _wants_ to continue worrying, because clearly _Tobio’s_ too stupid to worry over his own future, he takes a deep breath before saying, “ _You’re_ the one that says stupid things. _I’m_ the one that makes sure _you_ don’t do something stupid, _stupid_.”

“Takes one to know one, _stupid,_ ” Tobio mocks him right back, and it’s easy to insult him right back and fall into comfortable, familiar bickering.

But how can he stop worrying just because Tobio told him to? Shouyou’s seen some of Tobio’s work, and he _knows_ it’s a lot better than anything he himself could do—but what if nobody comes? What if people look at his work with frowns on their faces or dissatisfaction in their eyes, and everyone thinks of Kageyama Tobio as another mundane artist?

Shouyou will always have faith in his soulmate’s ability, but he’s already biased to Tobio _because_ they’re soulmates. There’ll be random people who have radically different connections to him at his first exhibition—old friends, former classmates, art snobs and passersby—and not all of them will be kind. Not all of them will _want_ to be kind, and Shouyou can’t help tightening his grip on Tobio’s hand—

Except Tobio’s rubbing a thumb against the back of his hand and saying, “What did I say before, huh? Are you _trying_ to be dumber than usual, dumbass?”

“Only because _you’re_ being dumber than usual,” Shouyou mutters under his breath.

He can feel Tobio beginning to tense up again though, pensive frown slipping into an unhappy scowl, and Shouyou has to take another deep breath before he can look up into his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing Tobio’s hand again, and darts a look around them before he leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll try not to worry so much, okay?”

Tobio squints down at him, pink high on his cheeks—but then he gives a jerky nod and says, “Guess I can’t expect you to stop being entirely dumb, then.”

“Keep calling me dumb and I’ll—I’ll make you cook dinner tonight!”

“Like you always do?” Tobio asks, raising his brows.

“One of these days,” Shouyou declares, shoving a finger against Tobio’s cheek, “I’m going to mix _eggshells_ into your food when it’s my turn to cook, and I’m going to _laugh_ while you fail to pick them all out!”

“Your revenge plot’s going to fail if you scream it out that loudly, dumbass,” Tobio sighs with a shake of his head—but this time, all he does is press his lips to Shouyou’s forehead, and it’s a lot harder to bicker after that.  
  


* * *

  
Tobio had gone on ahead, saying something about doing one last check of the exhibition hall without Shouyou pestering him with questions or comments, and Shouyou had only offered tokenistic protest before he’d followed Yachi into the staffroom. He’s technically not meant to be there, not when he’s only the artist’s boyfriend, but Yachi sits him down and offers him a… a…

“What _is_ this?” Shouyou asks, wrinkling his nose at the blob of _something_ in his hand, and Yachi makes a noise that sounds more like a dying duck than nervous laughter.

“Did I cut the cucumber strangely? Or should I have used a different presentation for it?” she warbles, beginning to go a little green in the face. “Oh, I _knew_ I should’ve used crackers for the tuna instead, Akaashi-san had said to play it _safe_ and I’d just—”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Shouyou hastily interjects, shoving the entire thing into his mouth before he stills and widens his eyes.

“Oh my _god_ , I didn’t wash the cucumber properly, did I? Or it’s the bonito flakes—I _knew_ I should’ve bought the more expensive ones—”

“It’s _delicious_ ,” Shouyou whispers, and Yachi almost bites her tongue when her jaw clicks shut. “No, really, it tastes amazing,” he adds, when Yachi only blinks and her face goes from green to bright red, “so it’s okay, right? And Kageyama wanted to have tasty food, so he’s going to be happy there’s this!”

“Y-You really think so?” Yachi asks with a sniffle. “It’s just—this is Kageyama-kun’s first exhibition, and if people hated it because I’d messed up the food or the lighting or—”

_I think I know how Tobio felt now,_ Shouyou finds himself thinking, even as he gets up and tentatively hugs Yachi. It’s actually a little funny to see how badly Yachi’s panicking—but it’s reassuring, too, to know that he’s not the only one who wants this to go well.

“Yacchan,” Shouyou tells her as sternly as he can, stepping back so he can place his hands on her shoulders, “you’re the best event organizer we know. You’ve spent _weeks_ helping Kageyama out, and in a few moments those doors are going to open to the public.

“We’ll be fine. _He’ll_ be fine,” Shouyou adds over Yachi’s terrified little moan. “If that idiot is more interested in the food you’re serving than how well his paintings are going to sell, then why should _we_ worry over it?”

Shouyou waits until Yachi’s taken several deep breaths before he slowly lets go of her shoulders—but then she’s clutching his hands in her own and nodding with a determined glint in her eyes. “You’re right, Hinata,” she says with another nod. “You’re _right_ , and he’s going to sell just about _everything_.”

“That’s the spirit!” Shouyou cheers, raising their interlinked hands in the air and almost lifting Yachi off her feet in the process. “Now c’mon, that dumbass is probably done—”

“—and is waiting for a _certain_ dumbass to stop screaming at the top of his lungs,” Tobio says from right behind him, startling an _actual_ scream from both Shouyou and Yachi.

But instead of yelling at them to shut up or scowling at them until they stop, Tobio only huffs before he ruffles Shouyou’s hair, muttering, “It’s almost time to open the doors.”

There’s a moment when Shouyou peers up at Tobio, gaze searching his oddly closed expression—but then he sighs, swats Tobio’s hand away and turns to Yachi. “Let’s make sure Tobio doesn’t scare any babies into crying, yeah?” he laughs, dodging Tobio’s aggrieved swipe and sticking his tongue out at Tobio when he makes a highly offended noise, and—

He’s still nervous for Tobio. Nothing’s going to _stop_ him from worrying over his soulmate’s exhibition, because he could probably stop breathing easier than he could stop worrying—but Tobio needs him to smile and bicker with him like usual, and Shouyou musters up a smile and a quick hug for him.

And with Yachi shyly propping the door open for them, with Tobio’s hand slotted comfortably in his and Tobio’s future stretching before them—Shouyou beams up at him and walks with him to the front door, and all the people gathered to look at Tobio’s art.  
  


* * *

  
“ _I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it for the last day!_ ” Yachi wails over the phone, and Shouyou finds himself laughing even as he leans his head back against Tobio’s chest.

“It’s _okay_ , Yacchan,” he assures her for the third time. “You already did so much for Kageyama over the past few days—and you did so much work that it went just as smoothly as if you were there, you know?”

“ _So everything went alright? You’re not just—saying that to make me feel better, Hinata?_ ”

“Really, everything went _perfectly,_ ” Shouyou tells her, swatting at Tobio’s hand when it tries to sneak towards the phone. “We even managed to sell everything, so—”

“ _Didn’t you say there a few that weren’t for sale?_ ” Yachi interjects.

“Huh?”

“ _Like the largest one, right at the back,_ ” Yachi explains patiently, “ _and those three that were_ —”

“Shut up!” Shouyou hisses as Tobio begins snickering, but then he has to scramble to apologize when Yachi thinks he’s talking to _her_ , and it’s just a big debacle from there.

Shouyou loves Yachi, he really does, but he can’t help breathing a sigh of relief when he manages to apologize properly and reassure her another five times that yes, the exhibition’s last day went well without her. Even though his own nerves had settled after the reception on the first day, Yachi’s had only seemed to _worsen_ , and—

“Finally done talking, are you?” Tobio asks, taking the phone from his hands and curling his arms around Shouyou. “You’d think you’d have more time for your soulmate, but…”

“Don’t be jealous, Yamayama,” Shouyou snorts, tilting his head back to poke Tobio’s cheek. “Yachi’s not the one cuddling me, is she?

“And she’s not staring at a painting of herself either,” Shouyou dryly adds, before Tobio can preen in the slightly smug way he does whenever he’s reminded of their bond. “Like, really, _why?_ ”

Because Tobio had all sorts of paintings for sale in his exhibition—Shouyou’s favourite had been the one he’d painted of their first sunrise together, a warm ball of orange peeking over the deep blues of the sea—but there’d been quite a few of _him_ , too. The smiling ones were cute, and there had even been one of a butterfly on his outstretched palm that wasn’t _recognisably_ him, but…

A pale beam of sunlight peeking through their bedroom curtains and caressing his cheek as he’d slept. A hand in the foreground, which probably belonged to Tobio, just millimetres from the curls of burnished orange fluffing up against the pillow. His lashes, longer than he thought they were, and his lips drawn in a cupid’s bow that was _definitely_ exaggerated—but worst of all had been his bare arm, and the barest hint of his soul mark before his chest disappeared beneath the sheets.

“I wear shirts to bed, you idiot!” Shouyou yells, twisting around to glare at him once again. “And how did you paint me while I was still _asleep?_ You’re—you’re a _pervert, Pervyama_ —”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it,” Tobio says in the middle of his tirade, and Shouyou pauses so he can boggle at him for a few moments.

“ _What?_ ”

“I don’t paint something unless I like it.”

Tobio shrugs a little uncomfortably as Shouyou continues to stare at him, mouth twisting into an uncertain shape, but he fumbles for Shouyou’s hand and says, “I know you don’t look like that, and I wouldn’t have shown it if I had a choice, but…

“It’s my best painting,” he quietly confesses, squeezing Hinata’s hand. “I didn’t really want anyone else seeing you like I do, but… you’re my muse.”

He explains, in a voice far gentler than any he’s used before, and Shouyou blinks back more tears with every word that leaves his lips. He’d never noticed that all those paintings involved him in some way—that some of them were from memories they’d made together, and others were inspired by some connection Tobio had seen between them and him—but Tobio’s kissing the tears away from his face after a few minutes.

_You’ll always be the most beautiful sight to me,_ Tobio doesn’t say, but Shouyou hears it in the back of his head anyway.

Maybe that’ll change someday. Maybe Tobio will call him a prune when he gets too many wrinkles, or he’ll befall some sort of accident that makes him less than perfect. Maybe their love will settle into something less all-encompassing, overwhelming in its volume and depth…

But Shouyou cradles Tobio’s cheeks between his hands and kisses him gently, not quite turned away from the painting but not quite facing it, either. He could continue yelling at Tobio, or demand he take down such an embarrassing painting—but he won’t, because it’s them.

_And someday,_ Shouyou thinks at Tobio, _I’m going to paint **you** in a picture._

Tobio snorts at that, lips curling into an exasperated-looking smile as he does, but he leans in for another kiss and the thought fades away into warmth, and acceptance, and love.

**Author's Note:**

> For further author notes and other things related to this fic, feel free to check out my [blog](https://chiarosekuro.wordpress.com/). Alternately, potential prompts and other sorts of inspiration can be found on my [Tumblr](https://chroku-n.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/chroku_n/) if that tickles your fancy instead - or, if you'd like your own shiny new oneshot, you can request one from me [here](https://chiarosekuro.wordpress.com/commissions/). If you'd rather chat with me and others who enjoy either my work or my company (or both) in a more private setting, though, you can also join my [multifandom Discord server](https://discord.gg/cQrS2bW).


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